Crying
by Wijida
Summary: Sarah Mackenzie has to finish her getting over Mic's leaving...and the hardest part is yet to come.


**Disclaimer**: JAG belongs to David P.Bellisario—thank you, David, for this incredible show, and allowing us fanfiction writers to borrow these characters—for we ask for no profit.

Crying

By Manda (Mizuno Ami)

The last book fell into a box, cardboard carton with sides bulging from the contents which had been settled in so caringly, the sound of hardcover novel striking the flaps and bouncing in with a frail, abrupt thump as it settled among the other covers and CD cases which depicted sandy beaches, or rough outback territories.Her hand reached in to run over gilded letters and a white satin cover before drawing the battered flaps and tightly fastening them down with brown packing tape.

Mic had contacted her last week. Called, not written, to request that she send the last of his things.Books, movies, CD's- all which consolidated into one large packing crate. And she was glad, unable to find the energy or the emotion to further deal with anything reminding her of his presense- anything other than simply getting rid of it. He wasn't _there_, and Sarah Mackenzie had been reminded of that in more than one instance within the past few weeks.

But the image of that one book haunted her, the texture on her hands, the way the tightly drawn fabric caught the roughness of her skin and letter traced so easily beneath her fingertips.He would get that book, see her face on the only picture she had chosen to enclose, hear her voice in his mind and remember their time together. _Remember_, and know what pain he'd left her in.

**_Mic Brumby_**

**_Garden Island Naval Base_**

**_Manly, Australia_**

The words in magic marker, bitter scent enveloping her nostrils as she scribbled- not neatly, uncaring as the letters blurred beneath her hands, smudged upon the tape, and she wondered how it was that she couldn't _see_ what she was writing anymore.And she realized, as she brought her hand away to rub irritably at her face, that her fingertips were moist.

"I'm crying," She whispered, moving into the bathroom to stare at a haunted face, mascara smudged by a mixture of her own hand and tears, rimming her eyes with black halos and dribbling onto the collar of a baby-blue sweater.

He was gone. And that moment was defining.

The truck left a cloud of fine dust behind as it retreated over the hill, a man watching from the window of his navy blue rental sedan until the air settled. He opened the door and exited, walking around tire tracks and looking up at the unerringly blue afternoon sky, across the water…waves pulsing onto the beach which was his backyard.A hat hung beneath his arm and he tossed it from hand to hand, unlocking the front door to a towering bungalow and nudging the overwrapped UPS package with his foot. 

"They always leave it in the way," He muttered, heavy australian accent drifting away in the breeze as his arms juggled the hat and a briefcase, abandoning them on the hall table and allowing himself a moment to retreat into the kitchen for a cold beer. It was dark with the shades closed and he opened them, turning his attentions to the box which was now in the center of his front hallway, tempting him with it's mystery. He sat before it and studied the unfamiliar handwriting, script untidy and hastily scrawled—only a glance to the return address, and Mic Brumby knew with a heavy heart and regretful sigh…where this box had come from.

It still had her scent on it, and he imagined Sarah Mackenzie's gentle hands smoothing tape over the flaps, closing in it's contents with her movements steady and sure—always as she had been.He knew, and he felt nothing but remorse.

**_Mic Brumby_**

**_Garden Island Naval Base_**

**_Manly, Australia_**

_From:_

**_Colonel Sarah Mackenzie_**

**_Georgetown, VA_**

The rest he knew, and the rest he didn't bother to read as he began to open the package—but it was the scattered blotches, the consentrated shapes which caught his eye and made him pause in his actions.He opened the box, hand reaching inside to withdraw an object and see her smiling at him in a wedding dress which she would never wear.

And a note, neat calligraphy, tucked into the satin covered, gold titled book and dated for weeks prior- a day before the wedding.

_"I know you're not supposed to see me in this until the wedding, Mic, so I'm taking this picture so that I can show you how happy I was the night before we were married. I love you…Sarah."_

Another blotch. A spot on the satin, and his fingertips brushed it as he sat back in thoughtful contemplation.

"You were crying," He breathed, tone full of regret and dismay, features contorted in surprise. 

He was gone…and unbeknownst to him, there was no one there to see her cry.

-Fin


End file.
